her beautiful voice was meaningless now. This was something which brought the most anguish. Harriet Gow, the theatre's own nightingale, had a horrid fear that she would never be able to sing again.
William Chiffinch's lodging was close to the Privy Stairs, the usual mode of access for ladies on clandestine excursions to the Palace. Meeting them as they alighted from their boat, Chiffinch could conduct them discreetly into the building and along to His Majesty's apartments, next to which his own were conveniently set. Speed of entry and secrecy of movement were assured. When opportunity presented itself, Chiffinch was not above making use of the route for his own purposes. A man so dedicated to the King was bound to ape him in some ways.
He was not lurking near the Privy Stairs now. When the coach at last arrived, he intercepted it at the Palace Gate and took charge of its occupants. Accompanied by two servants with torches, the three men walked past the Banqueting Hall and briskly on towards the Chapel. Unhappy at being back on what he felt was polluted ground, Jonathan maintained a sullen silence. He left it to Christopher to tender their joint apologies.
'You're unconscionably late, sirs,' said Chiffinch sharply.
'We were delayed.'
'That much is obvious, Mr Redmayne.'
'The cause may not be,' said Christopher. 'My brother, Henry, was the victim of a violent assault today. When the message arrived at my house, I was away in Bedford Street.'
'That's no excuse, sir.' Chiffinch was unmoved by the mention of the attack on Henry Redmayne. 'You should have made more haste.'
'Mr Bale took some persuading to come.'
'Indeed?'
'But, as you see, he is here. As am I, Mr Chiffinch. We're sorry for any delay but it could not be helped. I do hope that His Majesty will forgive us.'
'His Majesty is in no position to do so.'
'Why not?'
'He is not here at present.'
'But the letter was signed by him.'
'At my request.'
'We haven't been brought here to see His Majesty, then?'
'You were summoned,' said the other. 'That was enough.'
Reaching the Chapel, they shed the two servants and stepped into an anteroom that was lit by candles and perfumed with frankincense. Jonathan was ill at ease. Chiffinch scrutinised him for a moment.
'So you are Constable Bale,' he said at length.
'Yes, sir.'
'And you have misgivings about coming here?'
'Several, sir.'
'Don't waste my time by telling me what they are, Mr Bale, for they would bore me to distraction. They are, in any case, irrelevant.' He inhaled deeply and tried to bring his guest to heel. 'You're here at my behest. I serve the interests of His Majesty. They are paramount here.'
'I disagree,' said Jonathan.
'It is not a permitted option.'
'I'd have thought the safety of two women came before all else, Mr Chiffinch. With respect, that's what brought me here tonight. Not the interests of His Majesty.'
'Those interests are bound up with the abduction.'
'That's a private matter, sir.'
'Is he always so quarrelsome?' asked Chiffinch, turning to his other visitor. 'I wonder that you managed to get him into the coach.'
'It took some doing,' said Christopher with an affectionate glance at Jonathan. 'Mr Bale has a poor memory. He has to be reminded who sits on the throne of England.'
'I've no need to be told that!' retorted Jonathan mutinously.
'I spoke in jest.'
'It was out of place,' reprimanded Chiffinch. 'Indeed, bandying words like this is somewhat unseemly in the circumstances. I'm sure you've realised that only an event of some magnitude would oblige me to bring the two of you here like this. We have heard from the kidnappers.'
'So did my brother.'
'I'm sorry to learn of his beating, Mr Redmayne. Please convey my sympathy to him - though I cannot imagine why they should single out a man who is not engaged in this investigation beyond the status of a go- between.' An eyebrow rose enquiringly. 'Unless, of course, he'd been promoted against my instructions to a higher position?'
'He was attacked. That is all that concerns me.'
'Quite rightly. You're his brother. However,' he said, looking from one man to the other, 'we're not here to listen to a report on Henry Redmayne's condition, distressing as it may be. Something even more disturbing confronts us. A message has been sent.'
'May we read it?' said Christopher.
'It did not come in the form of words, I'm afraid. Their calligraphy was rather more vivid this time. Follow me, gentlemen.'
He crossed to a door, opened it gently then led them through into a small chamber. Even on a warm night, the place felt chill. There was a stone slab in the middle of the room. Lying on top of it, covered in a shroud, was a dead body. Candles had been set at the head and foot of the corpse. Herbs had been scattered to sweeten the atmosphere. A compassionate Jesus Christ gazed down sadly from His cross on the wall.
'The body was delivered at the Privy Stairs,' said Chiffinch.
'It came here by boat?' asked Christopher.
'So we assume.'
'Did nobody see it arrive?'
'We've yet to locate a witness.'
Jonathan stared at the slab. 'Is it Mrs Gow?'
'No, thank heaven!'
'Then who?'
'We don't rightly know, Mr Bale. That's why I sent for you and Mr Redmayne. I hoped that you might throw some light on her identity.'
Jonathan exchanged a worried look with Christopher.
'It's the body of a young woman.'
Chiffinch was too squeamish a man to view the corpse himself. Taking the edge of the shroud fastidiously in his fingers, he drew it back to expose the head of the victim. Christopher was shocked to see such an attractive young woman on a slab in a morgue but he had no inkling who she might be. Jonathan recognised her immediately.
'Mary Hibbert!' he gasped.
'Are you sure?' said Chiffinch.
'No doubt about it, poor girl.' He bent anxiously over the body. 'What did they do to her?'
'Her neck was broken,' explained the other, not daring to look down. 'That's why the head is at such an unnatural angle and why… those other features present themselves.' He twitched the shroud back over the girl and wiped his hand on his thigh. 'It's a small consolation, I know, but the physician who examined her assured me that she would have died almost instantly. There'd have been little suffering.'
Jonathan was roused. 'Mary Hibbert ends up on a slab and you tell me there was little suffering?' he said with vehemence. 'Look at her, Mr Chiffinch. The girl was murdered. Did you see a smile on her face?'
'Perhaps we should discuss this outside,' suggested Christopher.
'I was about to say the same thing,' said Chiffinch gratefully, taking them back into the anteroom before shutting the door behind him. 'I didn't mean to offend you by my remark, Mr Bale. I merely passed on what the
